Letters From What Seems Like Forever
by FromPrussiaWithLove
Summary: Eighteen months ago Gilbert Weillschmidt and Elizaveta Hedervary got engaged. One year ago Gilbert disappeared. Six months ago Elizaveta married Roderich Edelstein, Gilbert's best man. Today, she got a letter. HunAus, hinted PrusHun. Please review.
1. Come And Find Me, Liz

**Letters From What Seems Like Forever.**

**Summary:** Eighteen months ago Gilbert Weillschmidt and Elizaveta Hedervary got engaged. One year ago Gilbert disappeared. Six months ago Elizaveta married Roderich Edelstein, Gilbert's best man. Today, she got a letter. HunAus, hinted PrusHun.

**Rating:** M.

**Chapter 1: "Come And Find Me, Liz."**

A couple, a light brunette and a dark brunette, kiss. The lighter brunette buries her face into the others' neck. A knock resonates through the fair house and crescendos for attention. The light brunette girl irritably jumps to her feet and stomps to the door. She opens the door and a letter is shoved into her care, but this man isn't the postman. She reads the person it is addressed to. The writing is beautiful and neat, and she can't hunk of who it could be from. She places it on the counter top and goes back to bed. This is one of the few times that Roderich is home, so she plans on spending the most time she can with him.

"What was it?" He asks; purple eyes peering through her.

"Nothing," Elizaveta smiles, walking towards the bed. "What's today's plan?"

"I have to catch a plane." He whispers into her ear.

"What? But you just came home yesterday..." She furrows her brow. He kisses her.

"I could get you a plane ticket." He tries in desperation. "To Italy, it's amazing."

"I promised Ludwig that I'd help him with the bookstore today." She just wants to spend time with him at home. Not somewhere exotic, just home.

"Oh ok." He kisses her; hands trailing over her stomach.

"Doesn't even care that I'm spending the day with another man." She jokes as she lifts his glasses from his nose. He kisses her neck.

"I know you don't have a thing for him." He rubs her sides and purrs into her ear, making her shudder.

"How do you know? I dated a German before!" She falls silent. _Gilbert. _

"I know, but Austrians are better. You know it." He smiles. "May I have my glasses back?"

"No, I told you to get contacts!" She places the glasses in her bra.

"I don't like contacts, and don't think I won't reach in there." He suggests; blush gracing his face.

"Geez, the twenty-eight year old, married, and famous pianist, Roderich Edelstein is still embarrassed to touch his wife's chest. If I didn't know any better, I think you were a virgin." She kisses him, guiding his hand to his glasses.

"And if I didn't know you, I'd think you were extremely immature."

"You love me." She smiles.

"I do." He pushes her on her back. Kissing her collarbone, he slips his hand behind her to unclasp her bra.

"Three hours, hmmm, I don't think you can last that long." She nips at his neck.

"No one can." He states. _Gilbert could..._ She growls.

"You're taking too long; if you wanna get some, than hurry up." She whines. He chuckles as he slides her underwear down, yet she stops him. "Nope, lose the pants, mister."

"Fine," he obeys.

– –

She kisses him from the window of her car. They say their goodbyes and go their separate ways. On her way back to the house, her mind wanders to the letter on the counter top. _No return address was on it, so who could it be from? _She mindlessly turns left, then right, and then into their driveway. She turns off the car and walks inside the house. The letter sits on the counter. She picks it up, but before she can open it, the phone rings. She checks the id, "Ludwig." She answers the call:

"Hello?" She answers.

"Guten tag, Elizaveta." Ludwig greets. "I'm just checking to see if you can still help at the bookstore in half an hour."

"Oh, yeah, I'll be right over. I had to drop Roderich off at the airport." She stuffs the letter into her purse, and walks out the door again. She starts her car, pulls out of her driveway and heads west, towards the bookstore.

"I'm glad you volunteered to help. There's so many books in my bruder's room; I just didn't know what to do with them."

"He never read any of them, ha-ha." She forces a laugh.

"Ja, he preferred television; no literacy required."

"Yeah," She turns onto Cherry Street with it's strip mall of little shops. She parallel parks a few blocks away.

"How far are you away from here?"

"Turn around." She replies, hanging up the phone. She hugs him; he's always been like her little brother.

"So, let's get to those books." He smiles. "I just want to set up his books in an organized manner, and only a few of them, I want to sell."

"Ok, so by author?" Elizaveta asks, picking up a book.

"Ja."

She is honestly amazed by Gilbert's library. _Wow, I never saw him read, but these books are all worn with numerous times of reading. _James Joyce, William Faulkner, George Orwell, John Steinbeck, Carson McCullers, Richard Wright, and F. Scott Fitzgerald are all part of Gilbert's collection. She places the books in order, when the letter slips out of her purse. Ludwig picks it up and hands it to her. She sits down with him on the floor and tears open the envelope; her eyes peruse the letter:

_Dear Liz,_

_ Been a while, huh? I know it's been at least a year, or at least it will be when you get this, yeah? I guess there was no reason for me to just up and leave, and you probably wanna smack my head open with that godforsaken frying pan that I bought you. It's been a long time though, hasn't it? I miss you a lot, and as I write this, it's only been a week since I last saw you. I know that you are wondering where I went, what happened to me, and why? Well, I assume my brother's rummaged through my stuff by now, so what is he doing with my stuff? Not like you can tell me. Oh, tell him that he should cheer up a bit; I was a a bit of trouble for him breaking his house and stuff. You, I love you so much, Liz. I need to ask one more thing of you. Remember where we met, or I should say the place that you slapped me for the first time? Go there, just for me. Come and find me, Liz._

_ Love,_

_ Gilbert_

"What is it?" Ludwig asks.

"Gilbert..."Elizaveta sighs.

"Really?" Ludwig's face lights up.

"I think..." Elizaveta replies, thinking of all the places she's been with Gilbert. Where they first kissed, where he proposed to her, where she was when he left... Where did they meet? She can't recall where it was, and that is the most painful thing of all...

**A/N:** Elizaveta and Roderich never hit me as a perfect couple, but what do I know? Reviews would be preferred.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	2. Remember?

**Chapter 2: Remember?**

Elizaveta's anger paralyzes her. _How could I forget where I met him? _Ludwig slowly takes the letter from her hands; a smile pulls across his face when he reads the part for him. _Where did you go, Gil?_ She is twenty-six now, and she remembers that she met Gilbert seven years ago. _Seven _years ago. _Ludwig was fourteen then, so I doubt he would know. It wasn't a bar; we were nineteen. Well, he was twenty..._ A hand rests on her shoulder; she looks up at Ludwig.

"We'll find him." He assures.

"I don't even remember where I met him..." She admits.

"It was seven years ago; It was probably at a party because he couldn't go to bars yet." She returns to Gilbert's stash of books and places them on their designated shelves. One certain book catches her attention though, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers. The book falls out of her hands, when she remembers when she first hit Gilbert.

– –

_Elizaveta loves the library; it's a way to just get away and drown in silence. She walks to the fiction section and picks out David Sedaris' __Me Talk Pretty One Day.__ It's one of her favorites that she can read over and over. She cracks open the book, when she hears the smack of a hand against a desk. She chooses to ignore it; it may have just been a book hitting the tile after all. It happens again, and she spots a man with an extremely pale complexion and hair that appears to be white. He is hands down furious._

_ "This is _so_ unawesome!" He yells; he clearly doesn't know library etiquette. "How do you _not_ have McCullers' __The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter__?"_

_ "Excuse me, sir, this is a library, please calm down..." The clerk begs._

_ "Just look for the book, lady!"_

_ "I already did; it's not here."_

_ "That's total bullshi–" A hand smacks him. "What the hell?"_

_ "This is a library, where some of us go for the _silence_, so please, just shut up." Elizaveta scorns._

_ "Ja, okay, whaetever, damn that hurt." He mutters, rubbing his cheek._

_ "Good." She replies over her shoulder as she checks out her book. She leaves without even looking at him._

_ Every other week, she goes to the library. Just to sit and read books, and every time, she goes to the library she sees the man who she's labeled the 'Lonely Hunter.' They exchange glances now and then along with occasional 'hello.' Nothing more happens though. She notices that there is a new copy of The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter that was donated somewhat recently, probably by the 'Lonely Hunter.' She decides to read it; it has to be a good book if he was raising hell about it. She cracks open the book and starts on page one. Not long after, the 'Lonely Hunter' himself walks over to her table and sits across from her._

_ "I see that you've decided to read my favorite book." He points to the book._

_ "Well, you made such a big deal about it, so it has to be good." She looks at the book, the 'Lonely Hunter's' red eyes are fairly intimidating._

_ "It _is _good, no, not good, awesome." He insists._

_ "Sure, now let me read?" She tries to block him out._

_ "My name's Gilbert." He smirks._

_ "Okay, Gilbert." She looks at his hand which is held towards her in a handshake like gesture._

_ "And yours is?"_

_ "Busy." She replies as she gets up to check out the book._

_ "Oh, come on!"_

_ "This is a library, so shut up."_

_ "Fine."_

– –

Ludwig picks the book off the floor. Elizaveta's just been standing there for a while. He waves his hand in front of her face, no response. He questions the possibility of a minor seizure, probably not. She looks at him, or is he just thinking that? She walks up to him. Her arms wrap around him, like a hug, but then, she kisses him? His face is a bit red.

"Um, Elizaveta, what are you?" He tries to construct a sentence.

"Oh," She pulls away. "I was just remembering something, and I thought that you were Gil... Sorry..."

"It's fine, what did you remember?"

"It was the library.." She mentions while she walks to the door; Ludwig follows her out the door and locks it behind him. She heads to the library.

– –

_"Oh, come on! Just one date, you know, you want to!"Gilbert teases._

_ "No, actually, unless you're talking about whether or not I want to hit you, if so, then yes. I would love to hit you." Elizaveta replies. "Oh, don't tell me that I'm the only girl that turned you down."_

_ "Actually," he starts._

_ "I don't care." She cuts him off._

_ "I was going to say 'no.'" He continues regardless. "Come on, one date, and that's it." _

_ "What does a date consist of with you?"_

_ "Dinner, a walk in the park, something that's not the library."_

_ "Fine."_

– –

She walks into the library, straight to the shelf that holds The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. She opens the book and a paper falls out.

_Liz,_

_ I guess, in a way you found me. Ke-se-se-se, however, you know this isn't the end, but you can walk away now. I would understand if you've moved on past me. That's great. On the other hand, I know you won't give up so easily when you want to kill me. Unless some creep took it, there should be a picture of us, from the beach. _

She stops reading and looks for the picture. They are at the beach. He looks slightly sunburned, and she looks tan. She remembers this photo and how she had to nag him to take it.

_I remember you were constantly reminding me to take it, and I kept saying 'no, because I look unawesome when sunburnt.' Looking at it now though, I love this picture. I often stay up at night now, thinking of you. What are you doing nowadays? Once again, I ask a question that you can't answer, but I can imagine you saying 'plotting your murder' or 'coming to find you' or 'not caring about you.' The point is that you're reading this, which means that you want to find me. Anyways, I'm waiting, and I would give anything to see you right now. Follow our memories. Where did we first kiss?_

_ Love,_

_ Gilbert._

_ P.S: "The way I need you is a loneliness I cannot bear."_

She puts the book back on the shelf; she should have known he wouldn't be this easy to find. She definitely knows where they first kissed, but why should she continue on this trip when it only ends in heartbreak anyway? She looks up at Ludwig with a meek smile.

"I should have know Bruder would take a lot more to find..." He sighs.

"Yeah," She replies and jumps a bit when her phone vibrates. She looks at the screen, _From Roderich: I'll be home tonight, can't wait to see you._ "I don't think he wants to be found though..."

"Who knows." Ludwig replies, walking towards to door. "I have to keep sorting books."

"I'll be over to help, just give me a call." She quietly reminds.

"Ja," he replies over his shoulder. His attitude illustrates Gilbert, and Ludwig has no idea.

– –

Elizaveta watches Roderich wipe off the dishes that they had previously eaten dinner off of. She walks behind him and wraps her arms around him, just to hold him close to her and just to feel the warm of another human near her. He puts the dishes on the counter, turns around, and catches her lips with his. He is so reserved; well, at least compared to Gilbert, he is. She feels a tear in her heart when thinking of the silver haired runaway fiancee. He rests his forehead on her shoulder and sighs in exhaustion.

"How was Italy?" She asks, holding him closely.

"It was bad." He sighs. "I mean, it went well, but I really didn't want to talk to all those critics and explain my muse."

"Well, what _is_ your muse?" She inquires, skeptically.

"You, I don't like them invading my personal life; they're leeches." He whispers.

"It's okay; I can deal with _anything._" He kisses her.

"Of course you can, that's why you're able to stay with a man who's never home..." He admits.

"Do you have to leave again tomorrow?" She tries not to sound whiny.

"Yeah, New York... I came back here though, because I wanted to see you."

"I'm glad that you wanted to see me, ha-ha."

"I _always _want to see you..." He kisses her; she guides him to the bedroom. He presses her lightly against the door frame. His forehead presses against hers. He's always so tender; it's almost irritating. He slips his hands under her shirt; her hands easily unbutton his shirt. He slips her shirt off; she kisses him, as she slips off his shirt. He reaches around to unclasp her bra, and she pulls him down with her onto the bed. Her hands trail down his chest. _I wish he would work out a bit..._ He kisses her neck, just right. She sighs; he slips her pants off. She undoes his belt. He slips off his pants and her underwear. He kisses her; she kisses him back. No foreplay, he just thrusts into her. She bites her lip, wishing he would learn. "I love you, Ellie."

"Mmmm." She held in the screams that she'd rather let out. He kisses her as he moves, and slowly, she begins to get used to it. Hell, she is enjoying it like nothing else. His lips to her neck and his thrusts are driving her insane. "Ahhh." She can feel her stomach welling up and her toes curl. She kisses him, to keep him from finishing before she's done. "Oh, God, Gil~~~!" Only does it dawn upon her what she has said.

"Ellie," his eyes tell what she knows he's never going to say out loud.

"Roderich," she looks away. They spend the rest of the night in silence. She realizes that no matter what; she won't ever forget Gilbert. She truly loves him, regardless of his selfish actions... She goes to the bathroom, note in hand. _Where we first kissed? My house, when you came over through the thunder and the rain just because you knew I was afraid of thunderstorms. _She holds her head in her hands and cries the tears that were a year, too long overdue.

**A/N:** Yes, I believe that Prussia would write in his laughing in a letter.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	3. I Love You

**Chapter 3: I Love You.**

Elizaveta wakes up on the bathroom floor, naked. She blushes as she opens the door, peering at the bed for Roderich, but he's nowhere in sight. She tip-toes over to the closet to slip on a t-shirt, underwear, and some shorts. She listens for the sounds of the clumsy pianist trying to make food, but nothing resonates like pots and pans. She walks down the stairs to find a squeaky-clean kitchen, no notes, no Roderich. He's already left for his flight... She notices her phone, checks it for anything, and finds one missed call and one new voicemail.

"_Ellie, what happened last night; well, that hasn't happened in a while. Frankly, it's a little bit embarrassing, but regardless, of all people to bring up from our pasts, why Gilbert Weillschmidt? He left you, and you came to terms with that six months ago. What made you bring up the man who hurt you so much?_" Elizaveta wants to tell Roderich that even though Gilbert left, she still loves him. She has known him for seven years; she loves him for six. Now, she's made up her mind, and she is going to find Gilbert Frederick Weillschmidt no matter what.

– –

_"Hey, Liz?" Gilbert whispers into the phone._

_ "Yes?" Elizaveta replies._

_ "I love you, like a lot, and it's really unawesome sounding..."_

_ "I love you, too, Sir Frederick." She jokes._

_ "I knew that I shouldn't have told you my full name!"_

_ "I think it's fitting." She loves him, which sounds really childish to her friends, since she's only dated Gilbert for a month._

_ "It's raining pretty badly out there." Gilbert states looking out his bedroom window._

_ "Yeah? I hear it might storm..." She shudders at the idea._

_ "Storms aren't all that bad, ke-se-se-se, only fools are afraid of storms." He opens his window; he longs for the kiss of rain on his skin._

_ "Yeah, ha-ha, only fools fear a few flashes of light and claps of thunder." A blush graces her cheeks. "So how was your day?"_

_ "Bullshit." He answers flatly. "'Cause I didn't get to see you..."_

_ "I had class." She closes her eyes, when the sky turns white and then black while welcoming a clap of thunder. She lets out a whimper. She doesn't care if he thinks she's a fool, or does she? "I-I have to g-go..."_

_ "What, why?" He asks, but the line goes dead, leaving him without an answer. He sits for a while; well, he fidgets for a while, as his mind runs through endless possibilities on why she would hang up so soon on him. He decides to go to her place and find out; rainstorm or no rainstorm. He's going._

– –

Ludwig Weillschmidt wakes up on his couch, beer in hand. _Damn, I don't usually drink like that... Or fall asleep on the couch... Or talk about Gilbert disappearing..._ He slicks back his hair with one hand and picks up his mess from the previous night. A frame catches his eye; it's been face down for so long that dust has already accumulated. He picks it up and regrets looking at it. It's a picture from Gilbert's twenty-sixth birthday party. He laughs lightly; his brother is such a jerk. _So why do I miss him so much?_ He wants to hear that Elizaveta is closer to finding his brother, but Gilbert is waiting for Elizaveta, not Ludwig... He cracks a smile and heads out to the bookstore, the only place where he is the important one.

Elizaveta walks quietly towards her house, the one that she grew up in. She sneaks in through the back door and sprints up to her room. Hoping that her father isn't home, she opens the door to the room of an adolescent. She looks at all the posters of bands; she never once would have thought that she would marry a pianist with a sophisticated taste in everything and lose herself in a man as amazing as Gilbert. The bed is perfectly made, and she reaches under the pillow. Sure enough, the letter is there.

_Liz,_

_ I miss you; as of now, it's been three months, since I held you in my arms and watched you sleep. I loved watching you sleep. Gott, that sounded really creepy didn't it? I don't think my memories are giving you justice, and that's what's tearing my mind apart, little by little. However, I'm one step closer to seeing you, because you remembered the night that I climbed up to your window in a thunderstorm because I wanted to see you. Well, no, I just wanted to know why you hung up on me, and I don't regret going to your house that night, even though I got a cold. I'm not really in any position to be saying, 'I love you.' Oh, fuck it, I love you, Elizaveta Maria Hedervary. You're almost there. Where did I propose to you?_

_ Love,_

_ "Sir Frederick"_

_ P.S: "The most fatal thing a man can do is try to stand alone."_

She looks at the letter and through her tears a laugh emits because she remembers his reaction to her nickname. She wants to be in his arms right now, just like that night when she clung to his shirt and flinched every time she saw the lightning. She wants to see his face with that slight tinge of pink from secretly blushing, like the one he had when she kissed him for staying with her through the night. She hears a knock on the door, frowns fearing for the worst. The door opens and a head of blonde hair greets her. _Ludwig._ He smiles weakly; his face brightens up a bit when he sees the letter in her hands. She watches as he sits next to her and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. He smells like a bar.

"Hey, we'll find him; I promise." She whispers in his ear, as he just holds her, comforting both in their doubts.

– –

This is just another clue that she pursues to find him; she's already followed so many. She opens the door to another clue, and there he is, just sitting, waiting. She tries to keep her patience and not tackle him to the floor. He sees her, and his whole face lights up. He jumps to his feet and pulls her into his arms. He kisses her countless times, like he's afraid he'll lose her. She holds him close; it's been so long. Tears fall involuntarily, and she doesn't care. She finally found him, after a year. She never has to worry again. He whispers something in her ear:

"Liz, baby, this is when you have to wake up." She can see him; his face contorts with the sadness in his voice. "I love you."

She sits up in bed, alone. He is once again missing...

**A/N:** Yes, this story is half modeled after _P.S I Love You_, but I don't want it to seem too much like the movie because then I feel unoriginal...

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	4. Antonio And Francis

**Chapter 4: Antonio And Francis.**

Elizaveta sits at the kitchen table mindlessly eating yogurt, thinking of exactly where she was when he proposed. She should have known she would have to run into them sooner or later; it's a known fact that Gilbert proposed at a party. He likes the attention, thinks it's awesome, and what's better than proposing at a party hosted by Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo or even better Francis Bonnefoy. She can't say which she would prefer it to be; well, no, that's a lie. She definitely prefers it to be Antonio; Francis is just creepy.

– –

_ Elizaveta and Gilbert are always together, enough to make her friends jealous of her 'sexy' boyfriend and his 'sexy' brother, but what do they expect? The two have been dating for five and a half years; people say it's weird... _

_ "Where are _you _going?" She asks blatantly as she watches him approach the door._

_ "Eh? Antonio's got a party, ke-se-se-se, nothing like his parties." Gilbert answers rubbing the back of his neck out of nervousness. "I mean you can come, actually I'd prefer if you did. Spanish women are scary..."_

_ "I think I _will _go. Only God knows what you've been doing at these parties." She walks into the closet, shutting the door behind her._

_ "Oh, come on, don't act like I haven't seen you naked!" _

_ "You haven't." She laughs lightly._

_ "I should have by now!" She cracks open the door and peers out._

_ "Does that bother you?" She doesn't want him disappointed._

_ "Of course, do you know how unawesome I feel?"_

_ "You'll get over it." She closes the door and changes. She wears a dress that her friends made her get; she honestly thinks it's too flashy. It reaches her lower thigh and dips down more than she would like. Not only that, it's the most noticeable thing, bright red. She opens the door, embarrassed._

_ "Mein Gott," he whispers. "You know, I'd have to fight off every guy in the fifty mile radius if you always dressed like this."_

_ "So, you like it?" Her face is red._

_ "Of course," he wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead. "I like anything you wear."_

– –

_ Time to face them. _Elizaveta realizes that regardless of which one it was, she will still have to deal with Francis. He's always around Antonio afterall. She knocks on the door of a Spanish-styled house, complete with stucco and everything. _No wonder Antonio's always short on cash, doesn't necessarily manage his expenses well._ She knocks on the door, no answer. She tries again, no answer. She, then, notices the doorbell, rings it, and is greeted within a fourth of a second.

"Bonjour, mon cheri!" Francis greets. _Dammit, this man!_

"Hola, Elizaveta." Antonio follows.

"Hi," She musters.

"What brings you to my house?" Antonio asks politely.

"Well," She fidgets with her hands and hopes that Gilbert disappearing doesn't bother them too much. "It's about Gil..."

"Mi amigo that disappeared?"

"It's horrible! He turned our trio into a duo!" Francis exclaims. _Whatever._

"Yeah, it's weird, but I've been finding these letters from him. Each letter has a clue, and I need to find the next one. I believe it's at your house. Or Francis'." She finishes flatly.

"Why would it be here, and how? I would have seen him at my house." Antonio wonders.

"He probably had someone else do it for him, but I just wanted to ask, where did Gil propose? Was it at one of Francis or your parties?" She feels bad asking for something of them; she hasn't talked to them in a year.

"Oh, it was here. I think." Antonio answers, deep in thought.

"Oui, over there by the couch. I remember him talking a mile a minute about it. He really loved you, and he couldn't wait to make a scene about it. I've never seen him so happy." Francis states.

"Thank you, may I search for the letter then, Antonio?" She asks, trying not to be rude.

"Of course, you're always welcome here." He smiles lazily. She walks over to the four black leather couches in Antonio's living room. She searches one, then another, and then the third without any luck. The fourth one hides the letter under the cushions. She opens it quickly. A ring falls onto her lap; she picks it up and realizes that it's her engagement ring. She slides it onto her finger.

_Liz,_

_ You're probably wondering 'are these even worth my time, because it doesn't feel like I'm any closer to finding you, Gil,' but you're wrong. You're a lot closer than you think. It's been six months, and I, well shit, I'm so mad because I can't remember what it feels like to run my hands through your hair. You didn't get it cut, did you? I hope not. Even if you did, you probably still look amazing, so this hint isn't necessarily one that I want my brother to read. Ke-se-se-se, I can see you brandishing your frying pan. Anyways, this one is personal, where did we first have sex?_

_ Love,_

_ Gilbert._

_ P.S: "Love is the bridge that leads from the __I _sense to the _We"_

She blushes at the clue and pulls the letter to her chest to keep Francis or Antonio from reading it. Antonio is smiling like an idiot, and Francis is just being an alcoholic, who is addicted to wine.

_– –_

___There is no doubt; Antonio can throw a party. His house is all lit up, and people are standing everywhere in sight. Elizaveta holds Gilbert's hand as they walk up to the house; he's just wearing a pair of black jeans and a button up shirt. She feels overdressed; he squeezes her hand in assurance and out of nervousness of things to come. He wonders how she'll react and worries at all the possibilities that she could say 'no.' He rings the doorbell and is greeted by an ecstatic Antonio whose arms are wrapped around an opposing Lovino Vargas._

___ "Hola, mi amigo." Antonio greets._

___ "Ja, guten nacht, mein freund." Gilbert replies, patting Antonio's shoulder. "So who's this?"_

___ "It's Lovi~" The Spaniard introduces happily, pulling the younger man close, as whispers into the man's ear: "Te amo."_

___ "Well, you're stupid!" Lovino replies._

___ "Ja, well, I'm gonna go bother Francis." Gilbert states as he walks into the house; Elizaveta walks closely to his side. He wraps his arm around her waist. "Guten nacht, Francis."_

___ "Oui! The man of the hour, no?" Francis greets. He turns around. "So, everyone! We should all pay attention to our German friend here!"_

___ "Ach, well..." Gilbert turns to Elizaveta, bringing her hand up to his face. "Liz, I have something important to say."_

___ "Gil," she blushes as she feels all eyes on her. She watches him situate himself on one knee._

___ "Elizaveta Maria Hedervary, would you do me the honor of being my wife?" Gilbert asks, face flushed light pink._

___ "Gil, I – well, I – of course." She smiles, and he kisses her as he stands up. _

___ "Aw~~~" Antonio interjects. "Lovi, I think that I should do the same for you."_

___ "You're stupid!" Lovino replies._

___ "Oui, congrats you two." Francis calls from one of the four leather couches with his arms wrapped around two women that he probably doesn't know the names of, and in the end, it doesn't matter because Gilbert had his fiancee, the love of his life, Elizaveta Hedervary._

_– –_

A knock calls out from the door frame. Ludwig looks up and gazes at Elizaveta; she smiles, waving the letter in hand. His eyes question why she's here, with him and not out trying to find Gilbert. In response, she grabs the books from his hands and begins sorting them. She continues, remembering Gilbert's words. _"Hey, Liz? If anything happens to me, look out for my brother."_ She places the books on their respective shelves when she notices a picture of Ludwig and Gilbert. Gilbert has his arm slung over Ludwig's shoulders, and Ludwig's trying to pull him off, all the while feigning a smile for a photo. Gilbert's smiling like there is no tomorrow. She laughs a bit; no matter how she looks at it, they are exactly alike, even though they don't show it around anyone or they try not to.

"That picture is at least five years old; it's from a family reunion that our aunt dragged us to, since technically she had custody over me sine three years ago. And Gilbert, well, he just followed me around." Ludwig chuckles a bit at the memory. "He's also pretty bad at fishing and any other thing you do with a boat."

"Glad I never set foot on one with him." She laughs.

"Ja, he's pretty good at driving a boat though." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Ha-ha, maybe he just took off on one of those house boats." She jokes.

"Ja, maybe that's why it's taken so long to find him." He adds distantly. She kisses Ludwig's cheek.

"I'll find him, and I'll drag him back here by his feet." She smiles.

"I'd hate to be him, right now..." He sighs.

"A lot of people would." She smiles. Gil, wherever you are, what are you thinking about?

– –

Gilbert looks out the window. A woman taps his shoulder, but he turns her away. He'd rather sit on his own, undisturbed, so he can think about his girl. ___Liz, what are you doing right now? Are you even finding my letters? Ludwig, how are you, and did you ever get that shop thing you kept rambling about?_ The same woman returns and taps his shoulder again. He frowns, because she's probably not going to go away this time. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore her and the world around him.

**A/N:** So no, Gilbert is not dead!

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	5. Not All Memories Are Cherished

**Chapter 5: Not Every Memory Is Cherished.**

It hasn't even been a full week since the first letter came, so why are these little pieces of paper with chicken-scratch more important than her stable life of a week ago? Is this just a self destructive tendency? She looks at the rain outside, falling from the blackened clouds; surely, there will be a thunderstorm.

Ludwig stares at the light rainfall from the desk in the store. The light taps of raindrops create a rhythmic background noise to his organization. The rain grows heavier, and Ludwig decides to close up the shop and go home before it gets worse. He closes the door and turns the key. _I wish I brought my umbrella... _He sighs as he walks out into the rain. The water instantly soaks through his clothes. His hair falls in his face, regardless of his attempts to slick it back with his hands. Eventually, he gives up. He walks around the corner onto another street on the way to his house.

Elizaveta looks out the window. _Roderich should be home soon. _She wonders if he's still mad at her. She catches sight of someone with wild hair and a pale complexion. _Gil? _She jumps up and runs out the door, but the closer she gets to the man, who seemed like Gilbert, he slowly turns into Ludwig. She laughs a little.

"You look just like your brother." She states, tapping his shoulder.

"Why do you think I slick back my hair?" He laughs.

"I think, facially, you two still look the same."

"Why are you in the rain?" He asks.

"Well, that's my house; I just mistook you fo–"

"Oh."

"How far away is your house?"

"Not far, just on Wintergreen Boulevard." He lies.

"That's really far." She grabs his hand. "You can come inside if you'd like."

"I can't, sorry. I have to take care of my dogs."

"You have three now, right?" She asks curiously.

"Nein, Cerberus is Bruder's." He says blatantly.

"Ha-ha, I thought it was cute when he named that adorable puppy 'Cerberus.'" She smiles at the thought of the little German Shepherd puppy prancing into things with the name Cerberus.

"Well, I should get going." He replies as he begins to walk towards his home.

"Don't catch a cold, okay?" She commands him.

"Ja," he laughs. She stands in the rain and cringes when a bright light appears. She looks at the source, a car. Roderich's car. She smiles and walks over to the car in the driveway. Roderich parks the car and throws the door open.

"What are you doing in the rain?" He asks concerned.

"Waiting for you," she smiles.

"That's no reason to be out here..."

"I missed you; you left without saying goodbye anyway..." She looks into his eyes. "I'm glad you didn't get contacts; glass make you look sophisticated."

"Hmmm, is that so?" He smiles as he leans down to kiss her.

"Yeah," she kisses him back. He wraps his arm around her waist, leading her into the house.

"I'm not going anywhere for a while now, so I can't wait to spend time with my lovely wife." He thinks aloud.

"Well, I'm tired, so let's go to bed." She suggests. He kisses her neck.

"Let's _not_ do that tonight..." They walk up the stairs together.

"I agree." They turn into the master bedroom. He slips off his jacket and shirt. She walks into the bathroom to change into her pajamas, When she returns, he is slipping on a white t-shirt, if only everyone else knew how unsophisticated he is at home. She sits at the edge of the bed, and he sits next to her.

"I think we should talk." She states blankly.

"We should." He falls back on the bed. She lies next to him, eyes on his. "Why are you bringing up Gilbert again?"

"Well, remember when you were home before Italy?"

"Yeah," his hands wipe her hair from her face.

"That day I received a letter, from Gil, but it was written a year ago. The letter leads to others, using Gil's memories, and as far as I know, they lead to Gil. That's why Gil was brought up." She feels her eyes water; she feels guilty, looking for her ex-fiancee while married to Roderich.

"Ellie..." _Liz..._ She closes her eyes. This is where she has to choose.

"Roderich, I'm sorry. I know you told me to forget him because he was insensitive and left me, but I loved him so much." Tears fall down her face. "I love you too, but I just need to have closure with Gil. I need to know where he went..."

"Ellie," He understands her. "Where does this letter lead?"

"Well, the first one, that I got before you went to Italy, led me to the library. The letter in the library led me to my old house, and the letter at my house led me to Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo's house. The one at his house is the one I have now. Each letter has a clue to the next letter."

"This sounds like a dumb wild goose chase." He whispers.

"I know, but I just want to see him..." She thinks about the letter.

"Fine, what's this clue?" He looks into her eyes.

"I don't want to say..." She looks at the sheets on the bed.

"What is it?"

"Where Gil and I first slept together..." She mutters incoherently.

"Where what happened?" He looks at her skeptically. "I can't hear you."

"You don't want to know." She covers her face.

"Why not?" _Because then I'll have to tell you about Gil and _it_, and how _it_ didn't make it. _

"Where Gil and I first went together on my birthday." She lies.

"Oh," he pulls her closer to him. "Let's just sleep, okay?"

"Yeah," she snuggles her head into his chest.

– –

_Elizaveta and Gilbert walk towards the gate of a local pool; Gilbert always begs her to go. However, she always turns him down for obvious reasons. She smiles nervously at him; she doesn't like to wear swimsuits. He smiles as he unlatches the gate and opens it for her. He walks behind her as they set up their stuff on a chair in the sun. He kisses her; she pushes him in the pool. She nervously takes off her shorts and tank-top that were over her swimsuit. She blushes as she steps into the pool. He swims over to the steps; his eyes wander her body. He pulls her close to his chest._

_ "I think that tiny black thing looks sexy on you." He kisses her._

_ "I didn't know you had that under your shirt." She points at his chest._

_ "So, I work out a bit." He blushes._

_ "It looks like more than a bit." She laughs. _

_ "So?" He pulls her underwater with him. She kicks him and comes up gasping for air._

_ "You jerk!" She yells. All the other people at the pool stare at her. Her face turns red. He kisses her again. "That shouldn't be your solution to everything."_

_ "Why? You love it." He laughs._

_ "How did I fall in love with such an idiot?" _

_ "You love me." _

_ They return to Gilbert's apartment; he just wants to take her but fears hurting her. Once he closes the door behind her, he kisses her with the intent of going further. He feels sick, but slowly, convinces himself that this is okay as he presses her against the wall. His hands wander her body as he kisses her neck. She feels overwhelmed and a bit scared._

_ "Gil" She whispers in his ear._

_ "Ja?" He replies carelessly._

_ "I'm a – well – I'm a virgin." She blushes. He stops and looks up at her, eyes wide._

_ "Okay," he pulls away._

_ "No, I wanted to." She kisses him, and he leads her to the bed. She falls backwards onto the bed, and he hovers over her kissing her everywhere. She blushes, as he slides off her swimsuit. "Gil." "Liz." His red eyes look into her green ones._

_ "I love you." She smiles._

_ "Ich liebe dich." He mutters._

– –

Elizaveta opens her eyes, thinking of the place that she and Gilbert first had sex and all of the consequences after... She needs to make her way to his old apartment, but once she gets there how is she going to get in? She looks up at the ceiling. _How much longer until I see you? _She looks out the window; birds fly and sing to each other, like Gilbert's bird.

Gilbert watches the birds from a bench. Of course, he's not really supposed to be here, but he is. _How much longer? I bet she's given up... No more notes, no more letters, I just want to see her._

She arrives at his apartment, Gilbert's that is. The key is still under the mat, and when she opens the door, everything is still the same. The smell of Gilbert lingers throughout the room. There are empty beer bottles on the table, papers strewn left and right, but the odd thing is the bed. The bed is made to perfection, and his jacket, the one she bought him for his birthday, lies folded next to an envelope.

_ Liz,_

_ I swear that this is the final note. I want to see you, now. The jacket is the one you got for my birthday, and I remember you having to wrestle me just to clean the damn thing. I loved it, but I know how hard that month was on you. After all our mistakes, I left, such a coward... This is the last step: go to the place that I ended up after our first fight._

_ Love,_

_ Gilbert_

_ P.S: "Most of us would rather love than be loved."_

She picks up his jacket; it still smells like him. He is everywhere in this apartment but so are the memories of things rather forgotten.

– –

_"It's not your fault." He whispers in her ear._

_ "Yes, Gil, it is! If I were more cautious, this wouldn't have happened!" Tears coat her face, as she pushes him away._

_ "Look, we'll try again." He kisses her forehead as he pulls her into him. "It's not your fault."_

_ "Gil," she looks at him, his red eyes accented with water._

_ "It's not your fault." He buries his face in her shoulder._

_ "It's not yours." She comforts._

_ "Maybe, we just weren't meant to –" His heart feels _so_ heavy._

_ "Please, don't go there." She begs him._

_ "I was going to say 'maybe, we weren't meant to have children.'"_

_ "Shut up." She turns away from him._

_ "I love you, Liz." He needs her._

_ "Sure." She sighs._

_ "What does that mean?" His voice sounds pained._

_ "Nothing." She lies down, pulling the pillow close to her._

_ "I love you."_

_ "And you shouldn't because I'll just hurt you like I _always _do." She refuses to look at him._

_ "Nein, you may hurt me, but you always come back and put me back together." His arms wrap around her, hands on her stomach._

_ "I-I wanted to name –"_

_ "Shhhh," he coos into her ear. He watches her drift off into a tear induced sleep, and after he's definitely sure she's sleeping, he slips out of bed, the apartment, and her life._

– –

Elizaveta holds Gilbert's jacket to her chest as she lies in the bed that they both shared for half a year. Her sleep is plagued with thoughts of doubt, an unborn child named Alex, and Gilbert never returning.

**A/N:** This seems to be pulling into the homestretch.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	6. I Missed You

**Chapter 6: I Missed You.**

Elizaveta looks around Gilbert's apartment; it looks so empty without him walking around everywhere with a beer in his hand. _Where you ended up after our first fight?_ She stands up, if this is the last clue, she'll find him tonight. She walks out of the apartment, his jacket in hand. She decides to walk; after all, her next destination is close.

– –

_ "Fuck! I can't believe you hit me in the _face _with a _frying pan_!" Gilbert groans holding his face._

_ "Hey, it's better than that guy, he's got a hole in his arm!" The man next to Gilbert points out._

_ "Have you _ever_ been hit by a frying pan by _this _woman? Hurts like hell!" Elizaveta rubs his head. "I probably have brain damage or a concussion."_

_ "I'm sorry, but you were being an asshole." Elizaveta points out._

_ "Ja, I'm the asshole, whatever." He groans._

_ "Mr. Weillschmidt, we'll have you down the hall on the left." A woman calls to him._

_ "Thanks for butchering my name, so unawesome."_

– –

She walks through an automatic door. The room is white with a tinge of green because of fluorescent artificial lights. She looks around the room and spots a silver head of hair. Could it really have been _this _easy? She walks up to the receptionist. The receptionist looks stressed and upset, but who wouldn't be in a place like this.

"Excuse me, what room is Gilbert Weillschmidt in?" She asks.

"Room 670 on level five." The receptionist answers annoyed, because he had to look it up in a computer further stressing his other duties. She knows this is the last leg of the journey. She walks into an elevator with a doctor. She presses five; he presses three. He looks at her pitifully.

"I'm sorry, intensive care is stressful isn't it?" The doctor asks.

"What do you mean?" She asks confused.

"Level five is intensive care, and it's always a stress over whether they'll be alive in an hour or not. I could never handle that; I'm in pediatrics." He smiles sadly.

"I didn't know that he was in intensive care. I just –" She feels her heart panicking.

"I bet your friend is a strong person."

"He is, but I haven't seen him in a year. I –" The doors slide open.

"Sorry, this is my stop, good luck." He salutes as he exits the box, and she is left alone. Before she has time to think, a ding signals that she is on the fifth floor. She can't hear a single thing, dead silence. Until a monitor beeps, and another one joins. She watches the orderlies run into a room, and everything slows down for her. He's an intensive care patient. Room 670. She walks to the opened room, peers through the door, and there he is, staring out the window. She watches him, feeling so surreal.

"Are you ever going to say hello?" He sighs.

"Hi," she blushes.

"You look beautiful." He smiles. He seems healthy for intensive care.

"I missed you." She looks at her feet.

"Come here." She walks towards him. She pulls a chair with her and sits by the bed. "It's been 372 days."

"You were counting?" She feels guilty.

"Ja, I owe you 372 days for my disloyalty and incompetence." He looks at her, eyes filled with guilt.

"Why now?" She asks nervously.

"Well, I'm told I'm in remission, and I can go home soon." He smiles.

"So you're better?"

"Not yet, but almost, hopefully. I know I can leave soon." He grabs her hand.

"Gil."

"Liz, I'm asking you to forgive me for just walking out."

"Gil," She watches him turn to the window. He stares out the glass for a while, longingly. It's like he's a caged bird with clipped wings, forever stuck. "Gil."

"Huh?" He turns back to her, confused.

"Nothing." She smiles weakly.

– –

Gilbert and Elizaveta walk to his apartment, hand-in-hand, just like they used to. He opens the door for her. She kisses him when he walks through the door. His eyes slide shut as his hands run up her shirt. His touch is warm, hot even. She pulls him backwards with her, onto the bed. His hair shines red as it reflects the sunset outside the window. He slides her shirt over her head. She presses her hands to his stomach, feeling the slightest trace of the chest that he once had. She slides his shirt up; he kisses her neck. This is nothing like Roderich; Gilbert would do anything for her. He pulls off his shirt and pulls at her bra straps with his teeth. She watches him and smiles when his eyes wander to her face; they kiss. Gilbert slips off his sweatpants; she blushes at the thought of being with him just like her dreams. His hands slip behind her to unclasp her bra; when the bra goes loose and he slips it off, she covers herself.

"Elizaveta, you're more beautiful than I can remember." He buries his face into her neck. "I'm sorry that I can't remember much..."

"Gil," she wants to cry. "I love you."

"You have no idea." He smiles. He kisses her collarbone. _"Hey, Liz, I'm not a virgin. Does that bug you?" _A tear falls down her face, and he stops. "Are you–do you want me to stop? 'Cause I ca–"

"No," she wipes the tear away. "I'm happy."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure with you." She guides his hand to her chest. A light blush burns across his face. The ring on her finger feels red hot with guilt. He kisses her and slides her underwear down. She can feel his fingers slip inside of her.

"Liz," he stops. "I don't just want this; I want you to be happy, regardless of it involves me or not. I'd prefer if it involved me."

"I'm only happy with you, Gil." He positions himself over her. Her arms arm around his chest. Her fingers presses against his skin in anxiety.

"I love you." He whispers in her ear as he slips in. She squeezes her eyes shut; she's not used to him. She doesn't care if it hurts because she loves Gilbert. She nods. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." She smiles. He pulls her close. She moans into his shoulder. He wants to tell her how amazing she is. He rests his forehead on hers; oh, how he loves her. She can feel his red eyes touching her everywhere, and she doesn't care about who knows about them. She's always going to be his.

"Liz," he moans. He hasn't done this in over a year, so it's no surprise that he can't last as long as he could. She can't last long either. Her nails dig into his back as they finish. When he hesitates about pulling out, she pulls him closer, smile on her face. "I love you."

"Love you, too." She looks into his eyes, when she kisses him. Her phone rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. Then stops. She rests her head on his chest; he runs his hand through her hair. She wants to stay like this forever.

– –

Roderich hangs up the phone. His irritation is growing with every second. Where the hell is his wife, and what the hell is she doing? He can't stand how irrational Elizaveta is. Chasing after a man who left a year ago, the only evidence is a bunch of letter that _anyone_ could have written. In fact, he believes that they were all forged by Ludwig, to make Elizaveta feel better. He huffs in disappointment, and not even playing piano can cool his anger today.

**A/N:** And soon, the epilogue. Please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	7. Reality

**Chapter 7: Reality.**

She stares at his pale skin that reflects the moon, as the moon reflects the sun. His fingers caress her side, and his eyes run over every detail of her body, memorizing every curve and texture. Her hand traces the faintest shadows of his muscles; her eyes searching for clues on why he left. Words should be exchanged, but she loves the silence. Silence, it allows the almost always mute beating of your heart sound _ever_ so loud. He buries his face in her hair, and she holds him close to her.

"Where were you?" She whispers meekly. "Or rather, why were you there?"

"Funny you ask, I was pretty sick." He sounds cornered, uncomfortable. "The kind of sick where you need hospital stays, chemo, and your hair decides to divorce your scalp. It was gross, and well, I was embarrassed. So I left."

"Why? I wouldn't want you to go through that alone, had I known." She doesn't want to let him go.

"I didn't want to see you cry." His eyes meet hers. "When you get that sick, you live day by day, and I didn't want you to deal with that."

"Gil," she kisses him, and he knows that she'll have to walk away from him tomorrow.

"So who's the lucky guy?" Her body tenses. "I saw it, when you first hugged me."

"Roderich Edelstein." She hates the man's name, hates her ignorance, hates her commitment to the wrong one.

"Oh, he probably made you happy."

"No, only you can." He kisses her, and he would give anything to stay awake. After all, 'all joy is finite; in the morning, ends the bout.' Nightmares plague his sleep as well. Blood on his hands, lights, broken glass, and everyone staring, no one ever helps; they just stare as he bleeds to death, only to wake up the next day. She doesn't want to sleep because in the morning, she'll have to go home, where Roderich will just ignore her. Regardless of her reluctancy to sleep, her eyelids grew heavier by the second. "I don't want to sleep."

"Neither do I," he yawns loudly. "Ich liebe dich."

"I love you too." She presses against his body, and he wraps his arms around her. They both drift away into a land of sleep.

– –

_ Elizaveta sits in a car, presumably Gilbert's because he's driving. His arm rests on his armrest, as does hers, and his hand is intertwined with hers. _This dream has the sickest feeling of nostalgia. _She kisses his cheek, and he blushes a bit. _Was this a night they had shared before? _They kiss at a stoplight, and when it turns green, he hits the gas. The sickening sound of metal cutting, grinding, and bending metal fills her ears, as the world spins in front of the car. The force of this sudden collision glues them to their seats._

_ Before she knows it, she's got a light being pointed into her eyes, checking for a response, but as much as she wants to let them know that she's fine, she's paralyzed, possibly by the sight of her lover being hoisted in a stretcher, or possibly by the fact that her whole body aches from what she assumes was the car accident. Her body is hoisted up off the asphalt, and her eyes remain closed, without her decision to close them. Through her eyelids, she views the change of lights passing by, and she can barely feel when they move her. _This experience is so vivid; it's more like a memory than a dream.

Her eyes flutter open to the bright light of mid-afternoon. She sits up and looks out the window, but some things don't add up. When she fell asleep, it was late summer, beginning of Autumn, but now it was the middle of winter. Snow drifts down from the clouds over the naked trees. This must be her second dream; you go through two cycles of sleep a night. Therefore, you dream twice a night? She turns to look for Gilbert; he is absent from his position in the previous dream. His blue sheets bleached pure white, and Gilbert himself is replaced with a plastic guard and the edge of the bed. Her body feels weak, and she feels the consequences of sleeping like a vegetable for must have been months, in this dream that is. She proceeds to look around the room and spots other people in deep sleep, living off of breathing machines. The silence hangs and suffocates the ear drums of their much enjoyed vibrations. She runs her hand over the plastic guard; how long has she been here?

Ludwig walks into the hospital room, like every other day, but today was different. Unlike the other days, he was walking into the hospital at 12:49 instead of 12:30. Unlike other days, the girl at the coffee shop slipped and spilled all of his steaming hot coffee all over him Unlike other days, he didn't read the newspaper. Like all other days in the past year, the whole hospital staff greets him by name and looks at him with eyes of pity. He takes the staircase; nostalgia makes him hate the elevator. He spends a good while here, even though he doesn't have to. He carries a paper bag with a crisp, new copy of David Sedaris' _Me Talk Pretty One Day_, which he plans on reading while he waits for what he knows won't happen. Level three he opens the door to the hallway, and his thoughts drift to his situation. How long will he keep doing this when he knows he doesn't have to? How long will he keep putting off that Italian girl, just to come here? Why does he even come? He thought about the same exact thing a week ago, felt horrible when he considered staying home, and ended up coming anyway. His feet carry him to room three-five-seven; as he walks towards one of the beds, his hand drags a plastic chair from the wall behind him. Without looking up, he sits down and begins to read.

"Lud...wig..." Elizaveta tries, but her tongue is uncooperative, lazy and slow. He drops his book at the sound of his name and just stares in pure amazement. Unlike every other day, she woke up today.

"Hey," he greets with a kind smile on his face. She looks at his formal appearance and realizes that just like her dream he has the same tendencies.

"What happened?" She honestly doesn't want to know, but since it's a dream, she'll play along with it. He leans forward against her bed.

"You were in a car accident." He stares at his hands; this is clearly a touchy subject matter.

"When?"

"Probably a little over a year ago."

"So I've been sleeping for a whole year?" Something like this seems too harsh for a dream.

"Just about."

"Where's Gil?" The imminent question that Ludwig has no idea what to say. Lying gets him nowhere, but the truth is even worse.

"He's not here right now, but he used to visit you everyday." An awkward silence blows into the room.

– –

She loves her dreams and abhors her reality. Often times, she would just sit and watch the hospital staff work; no one really gave a rat's ass about what she was doing. Well, that was until her one hour of being taught how to walk again every other day. Through discussions with Ludwig, she's narrowed out what was fake and what was real. Gil proposing to her was real; her marriage to Roderich was fake. All the letters were fake; finding Gil was a lie. Her subtle happiness in her prolonged dream was worth nothing because it was all in a dream. Ludwig's bookstore was fake, and so was his 'dream' to have a bookstore. He studies psychology and wants to be a psychiatrist. She is twenty-six; he is twenty-one. At the current moment, she can manage to walk if she holds onto Ludwig's arm; Gil isn't mentioned anymore.

She watches Ludwig study his textbook with extreme interest and finds herself studying _him_ with extreme interest. The doctors have told her that she can leave soon, and with the lack of an apartment, Ludwig offers to let her stay with him. Of all the people in the world, she trusts him more than most. He doesn't know how to go about it, but he's felt this strange attraction to her since he met her, but he held back because his brother. Now, it's different because he's been asked to watch out for her, asked to make her happy, and begged to make sure she's never alone.

She's quiet and keeps to herself, unless there's a thunderstorm; when those blow into town, he holds her close until the storms pass. She feels somewhat for him but never acts on those feelings because that would be like betraying Gil. As for Gil, they don't discuss him, but today is different. Ludwig mentioned seeing Gil on his birthday, which is today, and asked if she'd like to come along; she obviously says 'yes' and goes along with him. It's the typical wintry afternoon. Ludwig offers his arm to her; she doesn't need his arm to walk anymore, just a habit. They walk side-by-side, arm-in-arm; his face is dusted with scarlet which is hidden by his scarf. He walks this way almost every week, but this is the first time he's chosen to bring her. The cold air stings her eyes. They walk through a gate which is covered in rust and stands alone. The sound of a breaking heart can be heard, and he swallows nervously. They walk into the stone-filled yards to one stone in particular, 'Gilbert Frederick Weillschmidt.' She can't really feel relieved that he didn't leave her for someone else, but she feels her knees buckle. He holds her on her feet and lowers her down to her knees, as he squats beside her.

"When?" She asks, running her hand over the embossed lettering.

"April 18th." He stares at the slab of marble, granite mixture.

"Why?" She turns when he sighs the slightest bit.

"He got sick and passed out at the grocery store. He got worse, and well, here he is." He crosses his arms on his knees and rests his head on his arms; his eyes sting but not from the frigid air.

"Ludwig," her hand rubs his back; tears fall down her face. "Did he leave any letters?"

"Vas?" His eyes meet hers. She considers that maybe Gil wasn't one to write letters after all. "How did you know?"

"I just guessed." She laughs lightly, wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"It's at the house though."

"We'll look at it later then." She leans against Ludwig; he wraps an arm around her, mustering all his confidence.

"I –" He stops. "I really like you, so I – never-mind." He covers his face with his hand.

"Ludwig, I like you, too, as a brother."

"Ach, ja." He looks away.

– –

Elizaveta still lives with Ludwig, and she thinks about January 18th a lot, thinks about Gil, thinks about Ludwig, thinks about how she has to choose one of them. She works at a cafe as a waitress, along with Ludwig. They hold hands and have kissed once, but they still can't get past the barrier of Gilbert. The letter that Gilbert left behind remains on her bedside table unopened.

"Are you ready?" Ludwig asks softly.

"Almost, but you can leave if you want." Elizaveta replies.

"I'll wait." She lifts chairs onto the tables. "I can help."

"No, it's fine." She lifts the last chair and feels arms wrap around her waist. "Ludwig?"

"Hmmm," he rests his head on her shoulder. "Ich liebe dich."

"What?" She shuts her eyes in denial.

"I mean it, Elizaveta."

"But – I mean – Ludwig..."

"Sorry," he pulls away.

"No, I'm sorry." She turns to face him; his face is dusted in a scarlet hue.

"Eliza-" She presses her lips to his.

"I know."

– –

The letter was never opened; it still sits on the bedside table.

_ Dear Elizaveta Maria Hedervary,_

_ I've been told to do this by so many people; doctors have given up. 'Say your goodbyes' they say. I wonder how much longer you'll think of me or wear my ring, but maybe, you won't remember me, when you wake up. I'm so sorry; I didn't mean for that to every happen to you. I visited you everyday that I could, and I would sneak out most nights to sit by your bed. Then, I got __sicker and was strapped in this bed; you are only an elevator ride and a few doors away. It's agonizing to be stuck without you, knowing you're this close. Will you ever be able to forgive me? What if when you wake up, I'm not here? Will you move on? I've told Ludwig to take care of you, and he promised that he would. I know that he loves you as I do, but he would never tell you because you are my girl. Either way, I always wish you happiness in whatever decision you make. I love you._

_ Love,_

_ Gilbert Frederick Weillschmidt._

Elizaveta nestles her head in Ludwig's shoulder. She wears his ring and bears his name; it's the closest she will ever get to Gilbert. She sits up to take a sip of water from the cup on the bedside table, and her finger brushes the envelope to the last words of Gilbert. She picks it up and examines it; she shakes her head and places it back on the table. _No more letters, I'm happy where I am_. She lies back down in her husband's embrace.

**End.**

**A/N:** I have no idea what happened to Roderich; I _assume_ he continued being a fancy-pants pianist. Thank you for all of those who supported my prolonged time period of not finishing this and all of those who reviewed.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


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